


Seen You From Afar & I Couldn't Stop Myself

by anoncents



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M, harry is a flop, possibly makes zero sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoncents/pseuds/anoncents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has a spectacularly shit memory when he's past the point of tipsy. But when it comes to butts, he has a mind like a steel trap. Or like someone with photographic memory. Or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seen You From Afar & I Couldn't Stop Myself

**Author's Note:**

> *Disclaimer: This is fiction and I'm not making any money off of this. If you are one of the people depicted here or know them, I suggest you click the back button and avoid anything fanfiction-related. If you're still here, enjoy?*
> 
> This took a ridiculous amount of time to write (7+ hours) BUT I managed to finish it in one day (technically next day since it's 6:10am). It's part of something tentatively titled '5 One Night Stands The Tommo's Had + 1 Every Night Stand'. Clever, I know. That may or may not see the light of day.
> 
> Title from Ginuwine "In Those Jeans".
> 
> If you have any constructive criticism, please tell me! I'm so paranoid about my writing and I flip flop between being proud and "is this even any good??" Thanks for reading/comments/kudos ~ xo
> 
> PS. Dedicated to my sister who I suspect reads ~teh fic~.

It is Sunday morning, almost the end of his shift at the coffeeshop (charmingly called What A Grind), and Harry is looking forward to heading back to the flat and sleeping for a few more hours because of a lingering hangover.

The customer Harry's just finished serving leaves and a boy with the bluest eyes Harry's ever seen and the most intriguing cheekbones and mouth steps up to the counter. He's wearing well-worn grey sweatpants and a soft band shirt.

"Hi, what would you like?" Harry smiles his toothiest, best smile. People have told him they can't help but be happy when they see it.

However, this boy looks decidedly unhappy. In fact, he actually looks quite angry. The boy narrows his pretty blue eyes and curls his lip a little and Harry's smile instantly drops.

"Listen _pal_ , this is what I would like. I would like to never see your face again as long as I live. I will never patronise this particular coffeeshop ever again. I would also like a large vanilla latte with lots of whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top to go and I would like NOT to leave a tip. Thank you." With that, he looks down at his phone and promptly ignores him.

Bewildered and shocked into silence, Harry makes his drink and tentatively turns back to the boy.

"I'm s-s-sorry? Have I done anything to offend you? Have this on the house." His apology only seems to incense Blue Eyes further.

"You know what's NOT free, Harry? No one gets Louis Tomlinson's milk for free, without getting the whole cow too!" Blue Eyes inexplicably says, spots of red high on his lovely cheekbones.

"Um, who? Milk??" Harry squeaks. This situation has only become more confusing.

Somehow this only serves to infuriate him even more because his body actually starts to shake with pure rage.

Scary Blue Eyes (Louis??) snatches his drink and with one last glare thrown over his shoulder, marches toward the door. That's when Harry gets his first glimpse of his round, full posterior and memories of his hookup from the night before slam into him like a speeding train.

Harry has a spectacularly shit memory when he's past the point of tipsy. But when it comes to butts, he has a mind like a steel trap. Or like someone with photographic memory. Or something.

Basically no matter how drunk he is, there is not a derrière that Harry has forgotten or can forget.

Which is why he's cursing himself because the hottest boy, no, _person_ , he's ever met has just come up to him at work like a tornado and chewed him out before flouncing out the door with the best arse he has ever seen.

And Louis ("Hiiiiii. You are verrry fit. I am Harry. Harry Stylesss." It's dark in the club but Harry can see the white of the fit boy's smile. "Hi Harry Styles. 'm Louis and you're significantly more smashed than meself." "But not so drunk we can't do _it_ like, you know, _doin' it_." Harry shimmies his shoulders hopefully. Louis stifles a giggle. _Score_. "Let's see what happens then shall we?" Louis rests a hand low on Harry's waist, hooking a pinky finger into one of the belt loops and Harry wiggles his hips in anticipation.) now wants nothing to do with him.

"Zayn. Zaaayn. Help me. Stop laughing!" Harry whines into a pillow after rehashing the incident and last night's events in its entirety (minus the sexy details, let it be known that Harry Styles does not kiss and tell). "I didn't mean to like do a fuck and run on him."

Zayn continues wheezing, face red and clutching his stomach, _literally_ rolling on the floor of their living room in laughter.

"Fuck." He whimpers, somehow still laughing. "My stomach. It's cramping, fuck."

Harry throws the pillow at him.

 

  
After a week of uni, work, moping, homework, searching Facebook in vain for every Louis in the city, and moping a little bit more, Harry sees him again in the shop. He's wearing a pink beanie with a fluffy bobble on the top; Harry wants to flick it.

"Louis!" The boy in question automatically scowls.

"Look, the only reason I'm back is because no one else can make a decent drink. So. One large vanilla latte with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings to go. Please." The 'please' is so grudging it's obvious Louis wouldn't have said it if he wasn't so polite. Even to people he hates apparently.

"Yes, right away!" Harry rushes around gathering all the ingredients to make it. He wants to make this the best Louis' ever had.

When he's done carefully layering the whipped cream and shaking the chocolate artfully over the whole artery-clogging thing, he brings it over to Louis who promptly flicks his tongue out to snag some of the cream and hums at the taste.

Harry licks his own lip, distracted, but shakes it off quickly enough.

"Louis, let me explain. See, the thing is, when I'm drunk I have really terrible memory. Like once, I even got lost in my own neighborhood after a night at the pub with my friends. It was someone's birthday. Anyway, back to my point," Harry hurries when he notices Louis getting impatient, "after you fell asleep, I realized I had to get home because I had work in the morning and I just..forgot. To leave my phone number with you. And then in the morning, I had this horrible hangover and I was almost late for my shift so details from the night before just kind of. Slipped away. Temporarily."

"And apparently my name as well." An eyebrow raises.

"Um...yes. That too." Harry shifts from one side to the other.

"At least the sex was memorable."

"Well, I didn't actually quite...er. Recall that? But th-"

"What! No one gets to one night stand Louis Tomlinson and also forget about it! I let you do that... _that thing_." Louis hisses, his face an interesting mix of mortified and turned on and offended, and stalks through the doorway of the empty shop which had somehow not had one single customer come in during that entire ordeal.

Harry sighs. At least no one witnessed it. That and the fact that he's sporting a semi from the mention of _that thing_. He's grateful the counter is high enough to hide it.

 

It only takes another three days for Louis to stop by again. And this time he has a tall, muscle-y boy with short hair with him. They're both in footie kits and Harry's gaze lingers on Louis' calves and biceps. Louis stands off to the side, wearing aviators (even though they're indoors) and pretending to inspect his nails. Harry smiles fondly. What a jerk.

Jock Boy stands in front of the register, his face knowing and stern and disapproving all at once, and says politely, "Louis will have a large vanilla latte. To go please. Thank you."

Louis nudges Jock Boy sharply in the side with a pointy elbow.

"Oh. And he'd like whipped cream and-"

"Lots of chocolate shavings on top? I got this special Belgian white chocolate ordered special for you." He sees Louis perk his head up in interest then feign boredom again and his friend looks at Harry with a speculative gleam in his eyes.

He makes it and draws a smiley face and a couple of x's on the paper cup while he's got his back turned to them. He may or may not have included his phone number too and drawn a winky face.

"Look Louis, can we talk? I never got to finish my explanation." He says. Louis goes to grab the drink, but Harry doesn't release his grip on it.

Louis wavers, clearly still indignant, but also like he might be a bit curious. And maybe a bit worried Harry wouldn't give him his diabetes-in-a-cup or something.

"Fine. You have five minutes and Liam stays." As soon as Harry lets go of the cup, Louis cuddles it to his chest, sticks a finger in the cream and sucks it off. Harry stares at this display longingly and suddenly has an explicit fantasy involving whipped cream and various sensitive body parts. He shakes his head hard to focus on the task at hand.

"So yeah I forgot at _first_. But then I saw your uh..bum and everything came rushing back to me. I wanted to apologize but you'd already gone. And I do remember everything Louis. I remember seeing you by the bar. You weren't dressed fancy or anything but you looked really nice. You had this white t-shirt that showed off your collarbones. Your jeans were skin tight. It made me think of that Katy Perry song. And your smile was so blinding. I could see it even though it was so dark and I was so drunk."

Louis looks touched. Liam looks a bit like a proud father or older brother.

Harry continues, getting more and more into it. "And I thought you were so fit, are so fit I mean, I thought I should at least say hi because I knew I would regret it in the morning if I didn't. Amazingly you and I got on so well. I could feel the chemistry between us so strongly. And I was so jealous of all the people you paid attention to because I wanted some of it too. Then, we were in your room and on your bed and I saw, you know, you for the first time and you did that thing with your tongue which _wow_ you have to teach me that soon."

Liam coughs uncomfortably; Harry and Louis ignore him.

"Then, because we were so uncoordinated to handle anything too complicated, I asked you if you could just press your thighs together and we could just like do it like that and I pushed your legs up to your chest- you are so flexible by the way- and the noises you made. All of you looked so good. Every bit of you. You were so desperate and beautiful. Definitely the best night I ever had even though I nearly fell off the bed. So I would never let you go Louis without finding out if you wanted something more than that one night. I'm sorry for making you think anything other than that. It's really just a huge misunderstanding and kinda funny if you think about it."

Louis clears his throat, lips twitching at the corner like he wants to smile and eyes shining brightly with pleasure and happiness.

"Apology accepted. I'm sorry too. A bit."

Harry ruffles his hair and sweeps his fringe to one side. "So you doing anything later tonight?"

Louis puts one of his hands over Harry's on the counter between them. Squeezes it. "Just dinner with a cute barista maybe. Perhaps a stroll in a park?"

"Sounds good." Harry turns his hand over so their palms touch. They stand there staring at each other giddily. Then...

"Where'd Liam go?"


End file.
